


Roses are Red, Tattoos are forever

by DrJackAndMissIole



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Azriel - Freeform, F/M, Feyre!Tattoo Artist, Fluff and Angst, GOT and Sherlock references, House MD reference, Mentions of Lucien - Freeform, Panic Attacks, Rhys!Florist, Swearing, amren - Freeform, mention of psycological abuse, mentions of Tamlin, mentions of amarantha, mentions of morriganxandromache, mentions of the Inner circle - Freeform, mild swearing, parallel with starfall, sorry I had to put it there, super duper fluff and also funny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-05-04 09:25:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14589963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrJackAndMissIole/pseuds/DrJackAndMissIole
Summary: Florist-Tattoo Artist AUThey have two shops, one next to the other. They're friends.She disappeared and now she's back.He tries his hardest.The only thing that gets a reaction from her isn't the one he planned





	1. Pigtails and Liliums

**Author's Note:**

> *Disclaimer*  
> I do not own the ACOTAR franchise nor the characters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have two shops, one next to the other. They're friends.  
> She disappeared and now she's back.  
> He tries his hardest.  
> The only thing that gets a reaction from her isn't the one he planned

“Excuse me, sir?” a little girl with missing front teeth and pigtails asked him as he was cutting the leaves off a long Lilium.

He gave her his brightest smile and, after having put the tools down on the counter, leaned over towards her.  
“Yes, sweetie. What can I do for you?”

The little girl began to look nervous and turned her little head towards her mother, who motioned for her to go on with her question. The girl couldn’t have been older than seven and, after taking a big breath in, she said:"Do you have to put the drawings on every morning by yourself or does your mom help you?”.

Rhys was shocked for a couple of seconds, but promptly replied:"My mommy helps me every morning before I leave for work. But, if you want and if your mom agrees, there is a little shop next door that can give you a drawing for your skin that can last for a week or two! And your mom doesn't have to help, there are some that you can put on your own."

The little girl’s smile grew so wide and bright it might’ve outshone the Sun itself. The mother mouthed a little ‘thank you’ laughing a little at his response.

He nodded his reply and went back to his work. He gave the flowers to her after he was done as the little girl kept on asking:"Can I get one of those for one week? Pretty please."

Rhys did not hear the mother’s affirmative nor negative response as she said it while getting out of his shop, but he imagined it must’ve been affirmative, based on the girl’s reaction.

He went back to work, smiling to himself.

***

An hour later, it was time to close the shop and call it a day.

What a wonderful day it had been!

He had an appointment with the others for dinner at Amren’s house, and he knew perfectly how much she hated when he showed up late, so he turned the sign at the door and went on to finish his chores. He had exactly 20 minutes to complete his paperwork and head out, so he moved as quickly as he could. Or at least he wanted to.

When he had arrived halfway to his desk, he heard a small knock on the glass door.

“We’re closed, I’m sorry.”, he yelled without looking.

“Did you just send a freaking seven years old into my tattoo parlour?”, yelled back the person on the other side.

Rhys didn’t turn around, but simply smiled and took some steps backwards, until his back hit the glass door. “I did it one hour ago, not ‘just’, and I sent her to get a temporary one with the roses that you hand draw and that usually last a week, just as those into the Polaretti.”

“I know and I proposed one of those, but she saw my arm and choose a full sleeve. I gave her a henna one. Will wash down in a month or so.”

Now he turned around to open the locked door, letting the girl in.

Feyre wasn’t particularly remarkable: golden brown hair, piercing blue-greyish eyes that usually threw daggers and glared at everyone and threatened everyone from her 5’6 glory. A tattoo adorned her whole left arm, a full sleeve made of intricate waves and vines and thorns that went from the top of her shoulder to the tip of her fingers, leaving only her palm empty of ink. On the back of her hand, there was a little spot not covered by those thorns and those vines, but by a VFD's style eye. His idea. It came out off a bet, like many things in their friendship.

He did not like that word.

When Feyre walked past him to walk into his shop, she left a trace of vanilla and blueberries in her wake, probably from her shampoo or perfume.

He was intoxicated.

“It’s the third kid that you specifically send me to get a temporary tattoo.”

“Do you blame me for making you work a little bit more?”

She sat on his counter and pouted. “I blame me you for the looks the parents give me after the job’s done.”

“I’m sorry they’re causing you trouble. They look very convinced when they leave from here.”

She threw her hands in the air:"As they are when they come in! But, as soon as my work's finished, they whine about how the kid will get sick of it, how their classmates will react, how their other parent friends will react, etcetera etcetera etcetera.”

He nodded respectfully. They set into a comfortable silence and, while he worked, Feyre read one on the handwritten labels next to some petunias, explaining the meaning of the flower, the history, its origin and even a synopsis about Harry Potter’s aunt.

“I’m sorry again if I have to cut this lovely visit short, but I gotta be at Amren’s, and you know how she gets when someone’s not punctual.”

She nodded solemnly, fully aware of the of the little one’s wrath.

“Besides”, he continued even though the topic pained him, “don’t you have to be home soon? It’s a miracle Tamlin lets you out of the house to go to work even. Without anyone to check on you regularly even!”

She scolded, but didn’t comment, shutting the conversation down.

Shady? Maybe. True? Yes. Bitter? Totally.

He had been in love with that woman since day one, but didn’t have the guts to ask her out. They started as friends, then besties and then, when he finally found his courage, Tamlin came into the picture.

The blond-haired lawyer asked her out the same day he had planned to, just one hour earlier. Feyre then came to his place, as they had planned, to a Disney movie night and ice cream, and told him everything. Rhys couldn't believe his luck, but as long as she was happy, he wouldn’t have said anything.

And he didn’t. Things started out perfectly for them, but Tamlin rushed into it head first, arguably forcing her into moving in together at his place, which was very much better than hers. ‘Arguably forcing her’ because, even though she denied, he gave her no choice. Small comments here and there about her living situations, bigger comments about how he would’ve appreciated to have her around 24/7 and three weeks later, she had given up her apartment.

"You'll save money like this, since you don't have to pay rent anymore.", he said.

And then:"I don't see why you choose _that_ as a living profession. It isn’t proper for a lady to work in a tattoo shop”.

Later:"You know you can stop working, right? My salary is high enough and, besides, the house could use someone to pay attention to it."

That sentence came one month earlier. Feyre didn’t show up at her little shop for almost four weeks after that, not even texting Rhys or letting anyone of their shared friends knowing if she was alive. Rhys had to even call her bigger sister, Nesta, that didn’t exactly appreciate him very much, nor his brother Cassian for the matter.

Moral of the story: nobody knew where Feyre was for three weeks and four days. Three days earlier, when Rhys went to work, the little tattoo parlour next to his florist shop was open. He rushed in, relief written all over his features, but she was with a client already, so he decided to swing by later. She was constantly with clients whenever he showed up to check up on her.

It pained him, how she looked: pale, almost invisible. Her collarbones were showing more than usual, the bags under her eyes more prominent than ever.

The worst thing was a simple one, though. A month or so, after she had started dating Tamlin, she stopped drawing.

She did her job, still perfectly. Only with less passion.

She used to draw the tattoos by hand on a piece of paper before transferring them to the skin, to make them more personal for the buyer. She made the most complicated details with her pencil and pens and the results were breathtaking.

After moving in with him, she started using her laptop, searching for the tattoos online or using pre-drawn models. She still focused and did what she was paid to, but each time with less energy. Until she stopped at all.

Now she was back, empty as a shell. And still didn’t hand draw anything.

Until now. It struck him as a lightning.

“Feyre, you gave that girl a Henna, isn’t it?”

She smiled, timid and small, but it was a smile nonetheless. “She couldn’t stop talking about how pretty was the tattoo on you and how pretty was mine and how she wanted one up her arm and I couldn’t just make a sticker one.”

“You free-handily draw that?”. Rhys was hoping so hard. He prayed every deity he knew.

Feyre looked down at the point of her shoes. She was shutting him down again.

He couldn’t let it happen. “Fey, what happened? You stopped coming to work, stopped talking and texting. And now you come back, looking like a ghost. And a little girl shows up and you gave her a free handily henna. It’s the first drawing you’ve done in months. What happened?”

“She reminded me of you.”, she said, still looking down. “She reminded me of you and I... I just wanted to. I left him. A week ago. I just couldn’t stay there any longer. He was obsessive and jealous and I felt like I was dying. We argued about how maniacally he was acting and he snapped. So I packed all my things and left in the middle of the night, as he was sleeping. He came looking for me the next day and I was scared. I told him to get the hell out of my life or else I would've gone to the police and fucked up his perfect lawyering career.”

For once in his life Rhys didn’t know what to say. He simply stared at her as she was looking at the floor.

“Who kept Lucien?” his voice said before his brain could even register.

Feyre’s head bubbled up quickly, her eyes open wider in disbelief.

“I mean, he’s like a puppy. A red furred puppy. So, usually, when two people split up, one keeps the dog.”

“Lucien is a grown man and can make his own choices.”, she replied stubbornly.

"I take that as ‘at first he chose The Tool and now he's turning around towards me'”

She smiled. “Indeed”

Rhys’ heart was about to explode. He was about to tell her everything, how he felt truly.

But he didn't. Instead, what he said was simply:"I gotta go at Amren's. There is a seat reserved for you, you know."

Feyre looked at him, truly looked at him for once and he thought she could stare at his soul.

“ _Smile again” he whispered_. She did, _broad and without restraint._

_“You’re exquisite”, he breathed._

She was brilliant, broken and healing at the same time. She needed time and he would’ve given her all the time in the world.

Feyre looked at the clock on the wall. “If we leave now, we can arrive at Amren’s in time, hell even beat Az in the race there!”

That was enough for now.


	2. The lies we tell at coffee shops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bad text arrives and ruptures the quiet calm of the day  
> A bad decision can destroy their friendship  
> and both of them for that matter

Her screen lit up abruptly. The phone vibrated on the couch. Both of them froze with chopsticks in mid-air: Feyre about to put them down to grab another bite and Rhys with noodles escaping from his, falling back into the bowl.

She froze in fear and immediately looked like a cornered prey.

He froze in rage and immediately got a murderous look on his face.

“I have to answer. I owe it to him.”

“You owe him nothing. Don’t answer.” Rhys’ tone was icy and he was one step away from throwing daggers at the wall in front of him.

She was shaking her head softly: “He might’ve changed. He might’ve realized his mistakes and retorted back into his old self.”

“Don’t you dare trying to make excuses for him. He was horrible for you! Fey, he made you stop working and when you left him you were nothing but skin and bones and a broken soul! Don’t do this to yourself.”

The phone went silent, the screen black once more. The girl was still looking at it, waiting for it to turn on brightly again.

“Fey, please, look at me.”. He was starting to worry, rage passing over to concern.

When she did, her eyes were empty once more. They hadn’t been like that in almost a month.

“You deserve better than him, you know that. Right?”

 _‘You deserve so much better than that self-centred asshole. And I deserve more than the heartbreaks you’ve caused me. And yet.’_ He thought bitterly.

“I’m not so sure about that. What if...”

“Cut the bullshit.” Rage swept over him again.

Rhys was alright with being only her friend as long as she needed him to be. He was happy to be in her life for as long as she needed him.  Hell, he would’ve been okay with never being able to confess his feelings for her, if that meant that she’d be happy. He would have let her go if he needed to.

But not with Tamlin. Not again with that moron that didn’t realise she was drowning with him and, what’s even worse, didn’t care.

It took her two weeks to confide with Rhys that she would wake up with nightmares in her last period with Tamlin. She died, was tortured, imprisoned, had to kill everyone she cared about. Feyre would wake up in the middle of the night covered in sweat, panicking. She would sprint for the bathroom and empty the content of her stomach every night. She would cry over the toilet. And then she’d go back to bed, like nothing had happened. Tamlin would wake up next to her and ignore her desperate cries for help, until she calmed down herself. He would pretend to be asleep when she came back into the room, but she knew he was awake thanks to the sounds of his breathing.

She hadn’t had nightmares since she left him.

The screen lit up again. A single message.

“I have to answer.” She said, her voice shaking and almost inaudible.

“You don’t have to. I’m begging you, please. Don’t talk to him, ignore him like he did you. Please, Feyre.”. Rhys was panicking. Last time Tamlin and Feyre fought, he had almost hit her. Who knew what could happen if he had the chance to touch her again.

Feyre read the text anyway. “He says he just wants to meet to talk.”. A dark chuck escaped her lips. “He says he’s sorry.”

She sounded tired. She didn’t really believe those words and yet.

“Sorry my ass! ‘Il lupo perde il pelo ma non il vizio’ as the Italians say. The wolf may lose its fur but not his nature, Fey. Don’t fall into his trap again.”

“He doesn’t put traps. At least not for me. Maybe his career imposes him to act a certain way, but with me, he was always sweet and thoughtful and he cared and...”

“MAYBE HE DID ON THE FIRST MONTHS! Maybe he did when you were going through a lot with your sisters and your father and maybe he did everything that was right back then. But he changed soon. His manners got more impulsive and violent. He was psychologically abusing you and you’re going to let him do it all over again! You can’t see it, just because you’re afraid and you got used to having him manoeuvre you as he pleases.”

Hate sparkled off both their eyes: Rhys towards Tamlin; Feyre towards herself and her vulnerability.

The phone screen lit up once more, for another text.

“He says he’s found some old painting material of mine I’ve left at his. He’ll bring them tomorrow at the café we used to hang out at in the beginning. We had our first date there.”

She should’ve sounded hopeful, given the circumstances and the facade she was pulling for Rhys.

Instead, she was regretful, of all the time and tears and self-respect she had wasted on Tamlin.

Instead, she was scared, of how things ended and how they would evolve if they got back together.

Instead, she was tired.

“Really? He’s found something of yours at his after a month? Just now. Wow.”

The level of sarcasm Rhys was serving was stellar. “You know what, Feyre? Do whatever. Go and meet the devil. Fall back in line into his schemes. Let him use you as a pawn on his chessboard. I don’t care.”

He did, however, care. But one cannot reason with a wall, which was exactly what Feyre was pulling up.

Abruptly rising from his seat, he gave her a last look before storming out. She was looking at her plate, hands on either side of it.

“I am not going to babysit you, Fey. But you should just ignore him.”

“Well, then don’t babysit me, Rhysand.”

And on that, he left.

***

That day, Rhys took one hour more to go to work.

The day before, Feyre had her meeting with the Asshole. She hadn’t called or texted since their fight. She hadn’t shown up at her shop, even though she had the appointment in the afternoon.

The night before, Rhys couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned and tossed again, thinking of the love of his life in the arms of her captor. There was no better description. And yet, when the stories would be written, Tamlin would be the good guy, saving a starving-from-affection girl. His temper and bad behaviour would be looked over, for all he did. He will get the girl. And Rhys would be viewed as a bad guy for having fought with the girl when she wanted to get back with the main hero.

That day, Rhys was exhausted. He stayed in the shower until the water turned icy cold and took his time to get ready and get to work. He took his bike since the day was nice. Such a contrast between his turbulent emotions and the clear blue sky.

He didn’t expect her to show up for the next few days. Considering everything, he expected her to close up the tattoo parlour for good. He was bitter and scared of not having her in his life anymore. Mostly he was scared of what could’ve happened to her if she was left at Tamlin’s mercy.

But, as she had said two days earlier: “Don’t babysit me, Rhysand.”. And babysit her he wouldn’t.

He wasn’t expecting anything. After all, it’s better to not damage a broken heart with futile hope.

“Rhys. You’re late. I had brought you coffee and doughnuts, but now they’re cold. The coffee is cold, the doughnuts are gone. Magically disappeared!"

His heart leapt in his throat. He couldn’t believe what happened, but also didn’t want to give away any sign of attention or desperation.

“Overslept. Sorry to disappoint.”, he said coldly and briefly before opening the door to his shop.

The door had to been left open for customers, but also for Feyre to walk right in.

“May I help you?”, Rhys said in a polite work tone.

“You’re pissed at me?”, she asked, even though the answer was clear as day.

“I am not. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do and I suppose you do too.”

He started putting everything in order, making his way through his daily schedule.

“I’m sorry for what I said and what happened. You were right.”

She looked at him with hope in her eyes, but he kept on finding things to be distracted with.

“Keep on going. I am not going to stop you”, he said while cutting dead leaves off one of his plants.

With a slow nod, Feyre began: “It was good in the beginning yesterday. He was there early, waiting for me. He had ordered my favourite coffee and brought brand new supplies that cost more than my house rent, just to keep the scene up. He said all the nice things and did all the right things until I slipped the reasons behind my ‘escape’. He was not pleased to know I felt that way, as one can expect. He was also beginning to get angry, his hands balling into fists and his voice growing dangerous as I told him that I didn’t feel safe in his house. He corrected me, saying it was ‘ _ours’_.”

The look of disgust on her face was priceless as she said the last sentence. Rhys smiled a little.

“I told him that I never want to set foot there in my entire life. He replied that ‘ _We could go house shopping then, start anew_!’. As if that’s what would’ve made me go back to him!”

“You were thinking about going back two days ago, though. What changed?”. Rhys had to know. Rhys had to know if he could build his hopes up once more, or if it was better to become a hermit un on a lonely mountain.

Feyre looked at the ground, trying to focus her thoughts on her shoes. “I don’t really know. I think I had to see him once more, just to know that I’m not the same girl I was when I moved here and when I started dating him. I reacted badly the other day, that’s true. But it was because I was afraid of being that weak again. I’ve grown and archived so much. Besides, I never got to say what I really thought about Tamlin to his face without having to worry he’ll overreact!”

He laughed heartily, before realizing the meaning behind her words and worrying immediately:“Fey, you sure that was a good idea?”

She nodded solemnly. “I told him that if he ever comes close to me again, I’ll immediately go to the police station and fill a stalking case against him. Let his reputation go to hell!”

“Well, what can I say? ‘ _Hello. The old Feyre can’t come to the phone right now. Why? Oh, cause she’s dead!_ ’”

“Well, yeah! That’s what he made me do!”. They were both laughing now.

Rhys decided to let himself be vulnerable, for once. To test the water where they stood. “I’m really glad you didn’t get back with him.”

“Me too. I think it would’ve killed me if I did.”

They stayed in comfortable silence for a while. The first clients came and went and half an hour later, Rhys asked Feyre:“Don’t you have work to attend to in this beautiful day, Feyre Darling?”

She put a pensive face on:“Maybe, Rhys Dear. Let’s just say I’ve got a client booked that will arrive any minute now. But let’s also say that I’m free for lunch.”

He shook his head softly, a smile broad on his lips. “Fine, I’ll bring you a sandwich when I go to take mine. Happy now?”

“Nah”, she said while hopping off the counter she was sitting on, “I’ll come with you. This way I can both pay and check that you don’t put cheese in my sandwich.”

“That’s a deal”

They shook hands to that. They smiled at each other.

That was both a start and an ending. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @TrashForFeysand, who inspired me to write this  
> I hope I satisfied you <3  
> I did a little messing with the timeline sinve this should've been the third chapter, but I didn't feel like putting a fight after 'the sherlock conundrum'  
> Also, of course I had to put in a T-Swift quote, otherwise I wouldn't feel happy with myself


	3. The Sherlock Conundrum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I don't own shit.  
> Also if you didn't finish season seven of GOT, don't read cause there are two spoilers.  
> This was just something I decided to write out of despair cause my life is rotting in hell currently and I needed something to take my spirit a little bit higher than the endless void of sadness I am in.  
> This work also has not been betad. I apologise for the mistakes.  
> I just felt like I should've given another ending to it all, make it happy af

 

 “Can you please stop with this madness? Hugh Laurie is clearly the best Sherlock ever!”

They were both sitting on the couch of his living room. Really close to each other. She had her left knee under her body and was fully facing him. He had been throwing glances at her way the whole time she’s been there, and now was admiring her everything as they bantered lovingly.

After a particularly rough client, that had taken her nearly seven hours to finish, she came into his shop claiming: “We’re both closing earlier, I need to rest and so do you.”

At his attempt to tell her off, cause “I don’t need to rest I am in pristine fit every second of every minute”, she simply replied with an elongated ‘Please’ and a pair of puppy dog eyes that would’ve put a Labrador to shame.

Useless to say, they ended up on his couch half an hour later, a marathon of the fourth season of House M.D. on the television and chips and popcorn all around.

  
Feyre is harder than she looks, tougher. She likes to drink whiskey and burning liquor and beer.

Rhys, on the other hand, is a refined rosé man. He drinks fruity drinks and cocktails and vodka. He tried the same stuff that she drinks, once, when they went out with the rest of the inner circle after Az had received a promotion. It didn’t end well.

Feyre and Cassian will forever tease him about it.

Since their taste in alcohol was on such a wide spectrum, they decided to settle for some sparkly Coca-Cola for that fine night.

About halfway through episode six, the debate had begun. The show was soon forgotten and left as a white noise machine that lulled them into their silliness.

 “Feyre Darling. You are being delusional. Dr House’s got nothing on RDJ’s Sherlock. Just cause the character was inspired by Conan Doyle’s work it doesn’t mean it can be considered a Sherlock.”

  
She laughed. A delicious sound that was filling his days more and more each morning. “Do you know that Conan Doyle based Shelly on a doctor, right? Also, yeah Jude Law’s better than Wilson, that is true.”

“Can we just agree that Cumberbatch and Freeman are equally amazing.”

“Yeah, duh! But, controversial opinion: I don’t actually ship Jonhlock romantically.”

“More like platonic soul-mates? Makes complete sense. They are not interested in each other at all. You are right, Fey-ruh Acheron.”

_‘HOW DARE SHE...’, he thought severely displeased._

“Oh please don’t be pissed at me. I like them together and everything, but in my mind, Sherlock is pretty much ace-aro. I mean, Cumberbatch was also Smaug. Which in the books is described as a dragon while the movies decided to portray him like a vixen...”  
He solemnly nodded.

That is, indeed, a severe problem in mainstream media.

“That is, indeed, a severe problem in today mainstream media. We live in a world where people don’t know the difference between one another! Daenerys Mother of Dragons? More like Dany The Soccer Mom of three cool lizards. That would be more appropriate!”

“Don’t talk to me about Dany, I’m still pissed about Jonerys. I mean, fan-service much? Okay, I can deal with that. But don’t freaking kill Viserion and try to make us all believe that HIS MOTHER WOULD FUCK HER NEPHEW THIRTY MINUTES LATER!” 

She laughed again.

_‘Gods above and below,’ he thought, ‘how much can a person love another?’_

“Agree 100% on Viserion, though Jon after Ygrit should’ve just zipped up his pants and close business. You experience that kind of love once in your screentime. And when you do, Martin kills the counterpart off immediately after the big scene. You know that sadist is gonna kill you off, so just spare him the dirty deeds to write.”

“The dirty deeds are the reasons he is taking so much to finish that freaking book. Also, salty much?"

"You dare calling me salty? It’s been years and you still weep over Robb’s body.”

“Excuse you, it is a very fine body. Have you seen Richard Madden lately? With that kilt at Kit and Rose’s wedding? Fine AF.”

She was now scooting over, moving closer to his face to find a reaction.

“Fine, you’re right. But Darling, you know damn well I am attracted to that man, you can’t just casually throw his name around! That would be like me, saying that Misha has aged like a fine whisky.”

“And where would a lie hide in that sentence?”

“ANYWAY. We were talking of something terrifically important.”

He decided to add a Meaningful Pause to give himself some dramatic effect...

“How can you say you don’t ship Jonhlock romantically?”

_‘Honesly I love that woman. She is my other half, I would die for her and with her. My life without her has no meaning._

_But if her answer doesn’t please me then so help me God I will suffer through a meaningless life with the strength of my ships.’ His mind said._

“I told you before the ' _The Hobbit/Game of Thrones'_ parenthesis. When I read the books I thought of Sherlock as a madman who cared about Watson profoundly, but mostly cares about himself and his work. Someone who doesn’t dwell into feelings, doesn’t really enjoy sexual times and, truly, a modern-day asexual and aromantic asshole with a kink for unofficial police work. Yes, He and Watson are amazing together, and especially with RDJ and Jude Law I saw the sexual tension, which then I also saw in the BBC’s version. But for me, since I read the books first, Jonhlock will always be the exact relationship shown by House and Wilson. Sorry to disappoint.”

She was so close to him, he could smell her shampoo and count the freckles across her nose. She was staring directly into his soul. Rhys was fully clothed in an old tee and some pants and yet he’d never felt more naked.

“You never disappoint me. As a matter of fact, you never cess to amaze me, Feyre Acheron. You are perfect and beautiful both on the inside as well as on the outside. Here I was, looking for a polite way to kick you out of my apartment after you say you don’t ship one of my OTPs and now, here still I am trying not to be drowned into you and trying not to get lost into your eyes and I love you so fucking much that it physically hurts.”

_His inner monologue at the time? ‘Fuck. FUCK. What the fuck did I just say???’_

 She had managed to fry his whole brain with her smart reasoning and perfect voice and now he had ruined a perfect moment by saying cheesy stuff to a girl that didn’t particularly care for cheese.

That was the end of Rhysand Sphera as we all know and love him.

Cause of death: killed by Feyre Acheron as result of saying something completely idiotic.

Only...

“Do you really mean that?”

She sounded hopeful and scared at the same time. The horrors she had to face in the past came running back to her and were written all over her face. Rhys took her hands in his. They were both trembling.

His mouth had probably never been that dry and yet aching to speak at the same time. He could only nod and pray she reciprocated.

That was the moment of truth.

“Of course I mean it. All of it. Each unsaid sentence and each shared glances. Every time I bring you coffee or a send you a picture of a dog that walks into my shop with its owner even though I’m terrified of them. The dog, not the owner. Even though some owners of dogs are terrifying. I have been in love with you for so long, I forgot how it feels not loving you. I look back at those times when you were not in my life and even back then I knew I was missing something. And when he-who-must-not-be-named showed up and swept you off your feet away from me, I was broken beyond repair. But you came back and made me hope that maybe, maybe all my dreams could become true. But you were hurt and also broken, and you needed time to heal. You still do. I shouldn’t have said anything, but you’re just so fucking amazing that I struggle to not scream ‘I Love You’ every time you breathe. I am utterly in love with you and hopelessly devoted to you. I understand if you still need time to heal or would rather be with someone else. But I said it, and I do not intend on taking it back.”

She was kneeling on the couch, her hands still clutching his, tears streaming down her face.

“Don’t take it back.”

Rhys thought he had heard what he wanted, so he had to ask, “What?”, a dumbstruck disbelieving-his-luck expression plastered on his face.

“I said don’t take it back. I feel the same way. I am utterly in love with you and hopelessly devoted to you too. I thought you hated me after, well, Tamlin. It is pleasant knowing we reciprocate each other’s feelings.”

Feyre laughed again, breaking the spell between them. Only, now the deed was done. Neither of them could hold their emotions in any longer.  
Feyre leaned in and so did Rhys, and their lips met halfway in a once in a lifetime, epic romance, Full on Princess Bride type of kiss.

After they both ran out of breath, they simply remained connected in every way possible given their awkward position. Foreheads never leaving each other, hands clasped together, lips barely touching. That spell, though, didn’t last for long. Soon they yearned to touch each other’s skin and feel each other’s bodies.

They were never going to have enough of each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took the idea for Rhys' surname off illyrianrhys’ fic 'don’t look back' here on AO3. It's amazing and everyone should read it.  
> Also, for those of you wondering, this takes place around a month or two after the first chapter  
> Thank you so much for having read this thing  
> don't forget to leave a kudo and a comment!


	4. Morrigan and Cassian, amateurs motivational speakers  and professional children (although when one needs them they can be quite mature)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyre and Rhys are going on a date!  
> this is what happens before said date in Rhys' apartment  
> Morrigan POV

“All right, I’m here and I’m queer. What’s the emergency?”

“Took you long enough, Morrigan! A simple ‘ _OMW’_ text as a confirmation would’ve been nice.”

“Cassian, dear. I do not shorten my words. If I wanted to tell you I was on my way through text, I would’ve done it. But, since you called me in such a distressed tone, I decided to just drive and arrive as soon as I could. Now, what’s the emergency?”

Cass let a defeated sigh, sliding a hand in his jet black hair. “He’s been locked inside the bathroom for two hours and refuses to come out.”

“We’ve all been in that stage. Remember how long I’ve been in the closet? He’s probably narcissistically admiring his own beauty in the mirror while singing Gaston’s song in his head. _No-one is such a self-centred jerk like Rhys_!”, she finished in a sing-song voice.

Cassian rose up a perfectly groomed eyebrow, “I thought I was the Gaston of this group. But that’s not what he’s doing, listen.”

He cleared his throat and yelled at the door:“BRO C’MON GET TEH FUCK OUTTA THERE!”

“NEVER! LET ME DIE IN HERE! I’LL INEVITABLY FUCK EVERYTHING UP!” the door shouted back.

“See? Or rather, Hear? Heard? Whatever grammar’s correct, Mor, this shit’s serious.”

Not letting the panic wash over her, she moved closer to the closed door and gently said:“Rhys, can I come in?”

The door unlocked from the inside and she stormed in, not caring about anything other than her cousin and his mental state.

After he opened the door, he went to sit on the floor, his back leaning against the wall and knees up to his chin. She moved silently to sit next to him.

Mor could count on her fingers of one hand the number of times she saw her cousin like that: when he was five and broke an ancient vase in his father’s office, terrified of the outcome and of his father’s reaction; when he was seven and had just found out his mother was pregnant of his little sister, before claiming that he didn’t ‘ _need something to steal mommy away!_ ’; when he was sixteen and received a phone call from the hospital, saying that both his parents and his little sister had passed away in a car crash.

He didn’t cry when the charges against the monster that took them away from him dropped, thanks to the man’s position in the city council. He didn’t cry when he had to go into foster care, leaving everything behind.

He met Az and Cass there. And grew thicker than thieves, closer than blood siblings.

Three tragic stories that combined together made a happy one.

When each one of them became 18, they marched into the registration office and each changed their surnames to ‘ _Sphera’_. It was Cassian’s idea, being the oldest, to honour the tiny old lady that had taken care of them when they needed most. The other two followed suit, making a new family and getting each other a fresh start.

And, after that moment, Rhys became a ray of sunshine, never letting his own darkness shine through in front of people he didn’t trust. He never let anything worry him, for it only ‘ _creates wrinkles around those beautiful eyes and the world deserves my perfection unaltered by wrinkles’_.

Until now.

For 5 minutes or so nobody spoke, they just stared blankly at a random spot on the floor, waiting for Rhys to say something.

Then Mor broke the silence. “Andromache is trying literally everything to convince me to let her get a puppy. She even showed me pics of her favourite kind, but to me, they all looked like Cassian. So why should we get a dog that’s like you? If I ever get an animal it better be as refined as Az!”

“Are you calling me a dog, Morrigan?”

“Well I ain’t calling you a cat, that’s for sure. You do look like a dog, ya know? With that dumb grin and the hair falling into your eyes. And let’s not comment on how dirty you get every time you go outside and how dirty you always get my apartment! I find hair for weeks!”

“You’ve got no proof they’re mine!”

“Medium length and pitch black. One of a kind considering the only people in our Inner circle to have black hair are you three boys and Amren. And yours are the longest, so...”

“Whatever Sherlock.”

They kept on harmlessly bickering till Rhys’ dark laughter joined theirs. They immediately stopped and looked at him expectantly.

This was all uncharted territory. He had never worried about girls and dates. Rhys was too confident in his charming persona and good looks to get worried. Even when he was ‘ _dating’_ one of his professor’s assistant he wasn’t worried.

He was studying literature and, on his third and last year of college,  Professor Hybern’s first assistant Amarantha had become obsessed with him. She stalked him and made many situations uncomfortable for him, but he never said anything due to her role in his school career. On his last semester, she forced him into a relationship with her, threatening his scholarship and everything he had worked so hard for.

She was horrible with him, even though they were a thing, but yet again she was horrible with everyone. She failed mostly everyone at the exams she attended, so the only good thing that came out of that nightmare for Rhys was that he was never to be examined by her, so he had a chance of passing his finals. Professor Hybern himself examined him and, although it was not a pleasant experience, at least he was treated fairly.

When finals ended and grades came out and graduation came and went, he marched straight into the Dean’s office, burning proves of her reign of terror printed on paper. A little digging proved that he wasn’t the only one to receive that treatment in the years, and probably wouldn’t have been the last one, and backed up by the other victims, three weeks later the police came to the campus and took her in with several charges of sexual assault and abuse of power, and abuse in general.

Even though he was experiencing real life torture, Rhys never acted out, never raised his voice or broke down, never giving signs of discomfort. He was a soldier and he would’ve endured everything to arrive at his goals.

So, for Mor to see him break down over a date that still had to happen with beautiful wonderful and perfect-for-him Feyre, that was completely shocking.

“I know I will fuck tonight up.” he said, not looking up from the bathroom floor.

“Then you’re full of bullshit, brother. How can you say that! Fey’s smart and kind and perfect for you and head over heels for you!”, an exasperated Cassian said while throwing his arms up in the air in defeat.

“She’s too good for me.” Rhys simply replied.

At that Mor abruptly got up and looked down at him with a thunderous expression: “Don’t you ever say something like that in front of me ever again! Yeah, she’s too good to be true and the fact that she didn’t lose her smile after all that happened is remarkable, but so are you! Rhys, you had to face the horrors and ugliness of life since a young age and yet, instead of crawling into a hole and awaiting Death, you kept on fighting to make your world a better place.  So don’t you ever think that a single creature is ‘ _too good for you’_. If anything, you’re too good for them.”

When Rhys looked up at her, he had unshed tears in his eyes. “What if,” he said in a trembling voice “she’s not ready yet after _Him_? What if I’m forcing her to do something she doesn’t want to? Forcing her towards something she’s not ready or doesn’t want to be ready for?”

“Bro, Feyre said yes when you asked her out after already having made out with you for like an hour willingly. She said she loves you for fuck's sake! Since I’ve known her, she’s shown all of us how caring and loving she is. But she is also strong and tenacious and so fucking stubborn that she literally finished a whole chocolate cake Matilda style, just cause I said she couldn’t do it!”

“The point to this little throwback of yours is...?” Mor said slightly annoyed.

“The point is: if Feyre didn’t want to go out with you she would’ve said so. And I know what you’re probably pondering: _'Why didn’t she said_ _anything when shit went down with the Tool?_ ’. The answer is simple, dear Rhysie: SHE IS LOYAL TO A FAULT, and since he was paying for stuff for her she thought she owed him. Got it?”

“I dare you, Cassian. Call me _Rhysie_ one more time and I’ll...” Rhys began to say.

“You’ll what?” Cass taunted. “You’ll kick my ass from the bathroom floor?”

A dark smile crossed Rhys’ face. “No”, he said calmly “I’ll let Armen know what truly happened to her car. She will be so forgiving once she knows exactly how and why you did crash it into that bush.”

“You wouldn’t” replied a horrified Cassian.

“He would.” replied an amused Morrigan.

Rising up from the cold floor, Rhys smoothed some invisible lines on his sweatpants and asked his cousin:“Do you think jeans and a nice fitted shirt would suffice?”

“Dude, she’s seen you at your worst and at your best. I don’t think you’re gonna impress her with smart clothes!”

A loud knocking came when a hairbrush nearby collided with Cassian’s scalp, who left the scene mumbling angrily.

A giant smile erupted from Rhys and Mor began cracking up with laughter.

“C’mon cuz, you gotta get ready. I have it on good authority that what Feyre’s planning on wearing will leave your mouth dry!”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I hope you like it!  
> I'll probably be able to write about the date after the 17th of september, so I'm sorry if you have to wait  
> please don't forget to review if you liked, or even if you didn't and want me to change something!
> 
> PS: this ff is not betad, since my trusted beta hasn't read acotar and doesn't know much about this world. So if anyone is interested in beta-ing the things I write in this universe, please let me know by contacting me on my tumblr 'gallinfreyandemigod'
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, again!  
> Till next time

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this!  
> DOn't forget to comment and leave kudos  
> Let me know what you think and if you want to see more of this


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